Just Freeze and Pull a Stupid Face
by CallingInDead
Summary: You can't find a pikey that doesn't want to be found. That is unless you know a certain someone, a certain female someone. Turk drags an old friend into the pig pin with Brick Top's predecessor out for revenge. All over a pikey. Please Review!
1. I Fucking Hate Mickey Mouse

okay. so i have a sudden random obsession with this movie now. lol. i've been sick and i've watched it about 3 times now so i decided to write a fanfic even though i won't have much of an audience but oh well.

okay, so this chapter will be mostly in 3rd Person POV aside from Turkish's narrating. anything in italics is Turkish narrating. later on i will probably get in to 1st Person POV from my OC's POV.

i don't own Snatch and i'm not making money off of this blahblahblah.

don't steal. everything thing but Snatch characters is mine.

* * *

"We can't ask him to fight for us if we can't find 'em can we?" That's what Tommy had asked. "You won't find a pikey that doesn't want to be found, Tommy." That's how Turkish answered. So at what point did Turkish change his mind. At what point did an un-findable pikey become findable?

Well.

That's where I come in.

**LONDON**

"You can't find a pikey that doesn't want to be found, Tommy. _You can't find a pikey that doesn't want to be found, Tommy!_" Tommy trailed after Turkish ranting and glaring at the back of his partner's head. "That's what you said, Turkish. That's what you said!"

"I know!" He snapped. "I _know_ what I said, Tommy." He had stopped and turned to look at the younger male attempting to control the level of his voice on the public side walk. "Now shut up and come on. We're already late." "Late for what?"

_Late for what? It's not what so much as who. And who we are late to see is Sakina. Sakina, the name means: Tranquility, devout. God-inspired peace of mind. Everything Sakina is not. She's an Atheist, and the only devout behavior I've ever seen from the girl is her weekly visits to the gun and knife shop and the monthly cleaning of her 50 caliber machine gun she insisted upon buying after she saw Predator for the first time. She has a temper and mild manic tendencies. She was named after Raya and Sakina, pair of sisters who killed around 17 women in Egypt in the early 20__th__ century. _

_I call her Sakina. Most everyone else calls her Harrow. An odd nickname. A harrow is a piece of farm equipment used to break up the ground using sharp teeth. Deadly, efficient, and destroys whatever comes in the way of its job. Sakina enjoys breaking apart people and putting them back together in a neatly wrapped package. We still don't know when the nickname started but whoever started it knew what they were talking about._

_She said to meet her at some house on the outskirts of the city._

Tommy's phone rang from his pocket as they approached the house. "Hello?" He frowned and held the cell out to Turkish. "It's for you." Turkish gave him and odd look and bounced up the steps of the house. "Hello?"

"Don't. Move."

Three shots rang out, the bullets puncturing through the door mere centimeters on either side of Turkish's head, one right above. Tommy uncovered his face and stared in horror to where he was sure that his partner would be dead. The Englishman recovered and picked up the cell phone that had clattered to the stone of the stairs.

"Meet me at the pub. Bring the cash." The line went dead and Tommy carefully pushed open the door to the house. A man was in the process of sliding down the wall taking a painting with him revealing a safe in the wall. One bullet between his eyes the other two had shot through the two separate dials on the vault's face.

A small pub called The Mead Hall was shoved onto the corner of a bustling street on the border of the artsy side of town. Turkish had met Harrow here more than once and Jesus was the woman hard to find when she went into hiding. He hadn't had much contact with her in the past 4 months, she'd been busy and so had he with Brick Top's predecessor on his tale. To be honest he had kind of forgotten her. Not because he didn't care, but in the way that one forgets a best friend who goes on vacation for a long period of time and you learn to preoccupy yourself so, until you see them again, you don't remember how much you enjoy having them around.

"Turk."

_Sakina. She looks the same as always. Nothing on her body resembles anything of a killer. Except her eyes. Her left a green that I can only ever describe as lime and her right somewhere between orange and red. Five feet one inch of harsh and intimidating and needless to say adorable concrete. Her voice is somewhere between Transylvanian and Irish, hypnotizing to say the least and in all honesty I can listen to her talk for hours about nothing. She could talk about a dog taking a shit and it would be exhilarating. Tommy has never met her. He's in for a treat._

Sakina, Harrow, stood respectfully as her old friend approached her usual table. Her mid back length brown hair infused with neon oranges and yellows framed her face and the confident air about her could be felt from the front door of the pub. Beside him Turk heard Tommy's breathe catch. "Don't worry, Tommy. She's way out of your league." Tommy glared at Turk as he walked with his arms out welcoming the hug and peck on the lips from Sakina. "Long time no see, Turk." She smiled and sniffed a little adjusting her white double holed belt that held up a pair of dark jeans before pulling at her black Boondock Saints shirt. "I'm recovering from a lil case of bronchitis. Sorry about that. So. What can I do for you?"

'_What can I do for you?' By that she means 'What can you do for me?' We may be friends but that doesn't mean I get anything done for free. A discount maybe. Free; never. The bronchitis thing? As long as I can remember she's had issues with her lungs. Never smoked a day in her life except once when we were young and we stole a cigar from the store. She couldn't breathe correctly for a week._

"I want you to find someone for me."

"Oh?" she took a gulp of her whiskey. "Innit a little early for that? It's 9'o'clock." She raised the eyebrow of her green eye. "It's 9:25. If it was 9:00 you wouldn't have been late." Tommy went silent and she turned back to Turk motioning at the kid. "Who is that?" "Tommy." She nodded and called for another round. "So, who do you want me to find." "A pikey." "A pikey?" "A pikey."

"What in the fuckin' name of Michael do you need with a pikey?"

_Michael, as in Michael I, King of the Romanians. Died 1947, the same year her father was born. Her father used to say 'In the name of Michael.' I guess the sayings rubbed off.  
_"We need him as a fighter."

"Unlicensed boxing again, Turkie?" She leaned across the table her hair dragging against the stained wood. "That's all fine and good thar but what's in it for me?" "We'll cut you in on the profit."

"Will you now?" She settled back into her seat crossing her legs under the table. "Yes." She tapped her foot against the leg of the table. "33%"

"What?!" Tommy practically jumped from his seat. "33%?!" Turk ignored his partner. "Where the Hell did you get 33%?" "There's three of us. 100 divided by three is 33.33333333…" she rolled her wrist as she spit out a string of threes. "Even as it gets. Take it or leave it, you know I don't negotiate."

_She won't fucking budge I'll give her that much. And no other way am I finding that pikey without her. Unless he decides to come find me. And we all know that ain't fucking happening._

"Fine. Deal." Turk thrust out his hand and the girl across the table smirked giving it a firm shake.

"So. Who am I looking for?"

Turk looked at Tommy who pulled a crummy photo from his coat pocket and slid it across the table. "Cute. He got a name?" "Mickey." The amusement in her eyes died and she looked suddenly annoyed.

"Mickey? As in Mickey Mouse?"

"I guess if that's the comparison you want to make." "I fucking hate Mickey Mouse." The two males gave each other a look. "When do you need him?"

"By the end of this week if possible."

"I'll get him in three days."

She snatched up Mickey from the table and grabbed the bag with the doe from Turk tossing down a few dollars before zipping it tight and wandering out the door mumbling to herself. "I fucking hate Mickey Mouse."


	2. Gypsies, Tramps, and Theives

_When hunting pikeys any experienced tracker knows where to start. Any guess? No? That's why you're not an experienced tracker. Everyone knows the first place you look when hunting pikeys are the pubs. You check the pubs you're bound to find a supplier. Though gypsies are nomadic they, from my experience anyway, like to stay relatively close to one particular city. Contact with the rest of society outside their caravan is a rare occurrence but pikeys like their alcohol and unless you want to make it at home there's only one place to get the best. Pubs. Now, most sales to gypsies are under the table. Actually they're in the basement under the table but we'll leave out specifics. In the art of basement transactions violence is often needed. And that bar tender's broken elbow is what got Sakina to Mickey. Of course I could have done this on my own. But I like to leave the dirty work up to someone else when possible and I'm sure as Hell not sending Tommy. Not after what happened last time._

I hummed _Gypsies, Tramps, and Thieves_ under my breath. The pikey hunt had embedded the Cher song deep in my mind and I'd been singing it practically nonstop since I left The Mead Hall with the photo in hand, broken that guy's elbow and trekked my way to the new camp. Kids scattered around the campsite with little toys and bikes playing and minding their own watching me curiously as I walked into the makeshift parking area. I didn't have anything on my body that looked very valuable or interesting (or worth stealing) so the majority of them just eyed me while continuing their games. No adults seemed to be around and I started to question if that bartender had given me the right camp. If he hadn't he was asking for another broken elbow. Before my anger could begin to flare a young boy with glasses rode up on a bike with a little curly haired blonde boy following behind gurgling.

"Who're you?"

The eyebrow above my green eye raised in amusement at the boy's forwardness. "Sakina. Who are you?" "Paulie. That's Michael." The Aryan little boy blew a bubble and waddled around my feet near tripping over his long scarf. "Well, Paulie, Michael. Do you happen to know where I can find a Mickey O'Neil?" Michael lost his balance and grappled my right leg for stability. "Ya, I know where to find him." I nodded and looked at him. "2.50 and my baby sitting Michael for you says you go find him for me." Paulie seemed to mull this over in his mind for a moment as Michael tried to climb up my leg. "3." "2.50 and a pack of gum." He looked thoughtful again and eventually accepted, peddling off quickly. I smiled and scooped up the little boy on my leg. To anyone else I usually seemed to hate children but in actuality I enjoyed their company (not to say I want one for my own) and the little boy in my arms reminded me of a boy I used to baby sit for extra money on the weekends when I was in grade school. After some time Paulie reappeared thrusting a hand out for his money and gum. "You don't waste any time do you? Where's my guy?" "He's coming." I pulled out the money and searched my coat for the gum. "They were out coursing the dogs." "Ah, is that right. Mint flavor okay?" He nodded his head and took his profit of the day, escaping before I could change my mind and leaving Michael tangling together the orange and yellows of my hair into knots.

"Oi! Michael! Lev the ledy alone!"

The undeniable accent explodes from behind me as a pack of pikeys appeared from the southern side of the camp. I had always likened them to a pack of dogs, much like the ones they were letting loose to run about the camp right now. Each was an individual but when together they could almost think as one, and when managing business, if you didn't know what you were doing, you were the one playing the rabbit.

"He's fine."

Michael burbled and bubbled a little holding up two fists to the man from the photo in my pocket. In turn Mickey held up his own fists and made gentle punching motions back at the kid who wiggled for his release from my arms. I smiled and placed him on the ground wrapping his scarf around his neck one more time to keep him from tripping again.

"Mickey O'Neil?"

"Ya." He grinned and gave me a once over, I hoped he hadn't realized I'd already done the same to him, for completely different reasons, of course. "What can I do ya fer?" He spoke quickly but I easily followed. "I don't suppose you remember a man named Turkish?"

* * *

"He wants caravans."

"Caravans? As in more than one?" I could practically hear Turk rubbing his hand over his face. "That's what the man says."

"How are we supposed to manage that? I sent you there to bargain with him, Sakina." "No, you said 'find him, Sakina.' Not 'find him and negotiate a price, Sakina.' C'mon, Turk? Honestly? I know you've got a shitload hoarded up from your little diamond discovery."

_It was true. That diamond in Tommy's stupid dog had caught us a pretty penny and if it wasn't for fear or boredom we'd be in Mandarin right now and I'd buy the dog its own house so I wouldn't have to listen to it's stupid barking all the time. But I like my job and Tommy has to have someone to look after him and so we're still here. It wasn't until four months ago we even started having any trouble. We had a fighter, Gorgeous couldn't fight anymore but he makes a hell of a trainer, but we had a fighter so we were fine. That is until Poker Face showed up. Apparently Brick Top had a back up that none of us were quite aware of. Needless to say Poker Face has it out for me, started buying out all my fighters right under my nose. The thing about Poker Face is, well, he sucks at poker, and any emotion he's feeling is clearly slapped on his mug probably before he knows he's feeling it. And when he hates you, well, Brick Top left him the pig pin along with his money._

"Why can't I just pay him and he just buys his own fuckin' caravans?" I smiled at the near whiney tone in his voice. "I can just go withya. We can werk out all tha…grimeh details over a drink." The blue eyed pikey grinned and adjusted the hat on his head. "Ya hear that, Turk? We'll be there in a little bit." Before he could answer I killed the call and turned to the male behind me. "I'll drive."


End file.
